The narrow path ahead twisted like a serpent between sheer coral cliffs. Sunlight pierced through gaps in the towering rock, casting sharp, shifting shadows across the rough terrain. Jason walked near the front of the small formation, saber hilt resting against his palm, not yet lit but itching to ignite.
The clones moved with soldierly precision behind him, while Master Yoda moved like the breeze—slow, deliberate, yet always perfectly placed. The Jedi Grand Master showed no urgency, no strain. Jason couldn't help but glance at him every few steps.
"So," Jason said under his breath, "just how many droids do you think Dooku sent?"
Yoda didn't turn. "Enough, he believes, to show weakness. Wrong, he is."
Jason sighed. "Still would've been nice to bring a gunship or two. Or a few thousand friends."
Yoda turned his head slightly, his eyes gleaming. "Size matters not. Mm?"
Jason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. It's how you use it."
The Master merely smiled.
They rounded a bend—and the trap snapped shut.
A full droid battalion, maybe fifty or more, marched into view down the far slope, filling the canyon ahead with mechanical clanking. BX-series commando droids among them. More dangerous. Smarter.
Jason didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, lightsaber flaring to life with its signature violet growl. He stood tall, just slightly ahead of the clones.
"This is it!" Jason shouted. "Thire, take left elevation. Rys, Jek—pinch them from the right. Stay sharp."
Yoda stepped beside Jason. "Let the Force guide you, young Shan."
Jason looked at him, breathing once—slow and deep. Then nodded. "For the Republic."
And then all hell broke loose.
Blasterfire screamed across the canyon. Clones returned fire from elevated positions, expertly using the terrain. Jason launched himself into the fray, moving like lightning wrapped in violet fire. His blade caught bolt after bolt, redirecting some back into droid torsos with practiced fluidity.
Behind him, the droids pushed harder, pressing their advantage with numbers.
Yoda, however, did not draw his saber—not at first.
Instead, he raised a hand calmly and gestured to the clones, who had taken temporary cover among coral rocks.
"Come," Yoda said softly, voice cutting through the chaos like a still breeze. "Sit."
The clones blinked, confused.
"Your helmets, remove them," he added. "Your faces, I wish to see."
Rys hesitated, then slowly pulled his helmet off. "There's not much to look at here, sir," he said with a dry chuckle. "We all share the same face."
Jason, crouched behind a boulder nearby, tilted his head and watched. Yoda's words pulled even his focus from the fight.
"Deceive you, eyes can," Yoda said, his tone deeper now—not just calm, but intentional. "In the Force… very different, each one of you are."
The clones fell still.
Yoda turned his gaze to each of them.
"Rys. Always focused on the enemy, are you. For inspiration, look to yourself… and those beside you."
Rys straightened slightly, his brow creasing.
"Jek," Yoda continued, "concerned about weapons, you are."
The younger clone's lips parted in surprise.
"Weapons do not win battles. Your mind… powerful, it is. Outthink the droids, you can."
Jason's eyes widened a little. He'd felt this before—Yoda seeing right into someone's soul.
"Thire," Yoda said last, "rush not into fights."
Thire lowered his eyes in quiet understanding.
"Long is the war. Only by surviving it, will you prevail."
A quiet "Yes, sir," came from Thire's lips.
Yoda nodded.
"Clones you may be... but the Force resides in all life forms."
Even Jason stopped breathing for a moment.
"Use it, you can... to quiet your mind."
The silence after his words was heavy. Not with dread—but with truth. The clones said nothing. But their postures changed. Their eyes were clearer. Less burdened. More centered.
Jason slowly stood from cover, expression unreadable.
"Remind me never to argue with a Jedi Master again," he muttered.
Yoda turned slightly toward him. "Even you, Jason Shan. Think too much with your heart, you do. Learn balance, you must."
Jason gave a tired grin. "I'll add that to my growing list of spiritual repairs."
The peace didn't last long. A Separatist tank rumbled into view on the far ridge, turret charging. Jason saw it first.
"Tank!" he shouted. "Fall back!"
The cannon fired—a direct hit aimed at the outcrop where Rys and Jek were pinned. Dust and rock exploded into the sky. The clones were thrown, sliding down the cliff in a tangle of limbs and armor.
Jason didn't think. He moved.
Calling on the Force, he sprinted up the incline, rocks crumbling underfoot. Another blast thundered—he leapt, rolled, deflected a bolt mid-air—and landed beside the downed clones.
Rys groaned, clutching his side. Jek was dazed, helmet cracked.
"You're not dying on my watch," Jason snapped, igniting his saber again. "Thire, I need cover fire!"
The clone didn't hesitate—blue bolts began raining down from above. Jason swept his blade in a wide arc to deflect the return fire, then lifted Rys and Jek both using the Force, pushing them gently back toward Yoda's position like they weighed nothing.
The strain hit him—hard. His jaw clenched. Sweat broke across his brow.
Yoda turned, sensing it. "Trust the Force. Let go."
Jason exhaled through his teeth and released the tension. The burden lessened instantly.
Yoda smiled.
Moments later, the last droid fell. Blaster smoke drifted like mist through the canyon. Silence returned.
Jason stood in the aftermath, hands on his knees, breathing hard. "Okay... that was almost as bad as it looked."
Thire approached him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You pulled us through, sir. Thanks."
Jason blinked. "You're thanking me? You're the ones who held the line."
"Doesn't change the fact that you led us out."
Jason turned away slightly, unsure how to respond. The compliment felt… heavy.
Yoda approached. "Lead, you did. But listen, you must always. The Force, your truest ally."
Jason gave a tired smirk. "Yeah. I'm starting to think the Force is a bit of a showoff."
Yoda's ears lifted. "Or a teacher."
As they moved onward toward King Katuunko's location, Jason found himself walking in silence for a while, the weight of the skirmish settling in. He hadn't realized how fast he'd reacted, how natural it had felt to take command, to protect. It hadn't been about glory. It had been instinct.
He looked up at the sun piercing through the cliffs, and for a moment, felt that strange pulse again—the one from his meditation.
A whisper in the Force.
Still out of reach.
Still waiting.